


European Express

by Regency



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/pseuds/Regency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tracy does what feels right, even though it hurts.</p><p>(Set November 2006 during Laura's return.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own any characters recognizable as being from either General Hospital or the lyrics to the following song by Train. They are the property of their respective producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.
> 
> I've been rifling through my General Hospital fanfiction file and here's one of the better bits left over. This story isn't finished and likely won't be, but I read it and thought it had some merit. Somebody might enjoy it.

_Tried to write a letter_  
To tell you how I feel  
But all I kept on writing  
Was slipping on the tears from the day  
When I was young and brave

 

                -- “Let It Roll” by Train

 

~~~

 

                Tracy’s mind was elsewhere as the train chugged placidly across the European countryside.  Specifically, it was in a Spanish hotel room where she’d left a half-written letter to her soon-to-be ex-husband, Luke.  She’d abandoned it in a rush, feeling, realizing that if she stayed there too long she’d seriously consider going back.

 

                Movement was the answer.  Motion kept her competent and reasonable; it kept her from thinking of what was going on in Port Charles.  It kept her from thinking of Dillon, who was struggling valiantly to adjust himself to the business world.  They’d spoken more than a few times since her departure two weeks ago.  Traveling also kept her mind off Lulu, who was more confused than ever now that her mother was conscious.  There was record of a call from that number on her cell, yesterday, no call duration.

 

                After Spain, she made it a point not to consider him at all.  Any thoughts that led even indirectly to the name Luke Spencer were terminated and discarded.  For her own good, she told herself.  Her rationale didn’t fill the emptiness but it was something to hold onto.

 

                She hadn’t been able to do it.  She couldn’t spill her feelings onto a piece of paper, send it in the post and let the chips fall where they would.  She couldn’t give any more of herself away than she had.  Beyond that, she couldn’t foist her emotions onto another woman’s husband.  Though, by law, Luke belonged to her, Laura had a firm hold on him and she wouldn’t interfere with that.  She was a lot of things--some of them despicable-- but she wasn’t evil.  She knew what it was to lose a man to his wife.  This was simply a reminder.

 

                In spite of her inner turmoil, Tracy wasn’t oblivious to the lush landscape rushing past her picture windows.  It was beautiful, full of life and she was somewhat envious of its natural order and grace.  Everything came together perfectly to form the view that was painting itself, stroke by stroke, onto her memory.  It was the comfort Port Charles didn’t have to offer.

 

                The passenger car’s warm atmosphere and soft lights made it impossible to ever stray far from drowsiness and before long Tracy felt herself begin to nod off.  She wasn’t sharing her compartment with anyone and the journey had just begun--there’d be time for contemplation and regretting and sightseeing later.  She settled deep into the cushions of the seat and fell asleep.  Surprisingly, she didn’t dream.

 

                Some time later, she was awoken by the jerk of the train as it lunged to towards the next leg of their journey.  As the distance grew between them and the last train station, she saw yellow-white pin pricks in the evening sky.  There were so many and they all took turns winking, one by one, at her.  She smiled and shivered all at once, stunned silent and inspired by the sense of being so significant and yet so alone.  She missed Lila then.

 

                While she admired the faraway silhouettes of sleepy hamlets and villages, the doorway to the compartment opened to admit a baggage carrier and another passenger.  Tracy groaned mentally.  She was hoping to have the place to herself.  Nonetheless, she turned in mild interest to see who she’d be sharing this space with for the next day and a half.

 

                Though the carrier was fairly indifferent towards her, the woman who’d followed appeared to share a different opinion.  She met Tracy’s scrutiny with her own of equal intensity before extending her hand.

 

                “It appears we’re going to be spending quite a bit of time together.”

 

                Despite not wanting to be bothered with company, Tracy was compelled to be pleasant.  She smiled politely and accepted the hand in introduction.

 

                “It appears that way.”  Not rude or unkind, but she wasn’t promising a slumber party.

 

                “Nora Harper.”

 

                “Tracy,” she answered and ignored her new companion’s raised eyebrow at the omission of her surname.

 

                Whenever she told anyone her last name, they either had a story to tell about ELQ or they had questions.  According to most strangers she‘d met, the name _Quartermaine_ oozed wealth and privilege.  She didn’t think so, but there was a chance she was biased.

 

                Nora occupied the place across from Tracy and seemed more than content to sit there and do nothing.  Nothing except watch Tracy, anyway.  More than once, she’d turned to find herself to subject of intense study.  She would send Nora a speculative look and the marginally younger woman would shift her gaze elsewhere, not chastised but distracted.

 

                The steady weight of her observation began to wear on Tracy.  Finally, she turned to scrutinize her new acquaintance with like intensity.  She didn’t meet her eyes but stared at the individual features of her face, just as had been done to her.  To her dismay, Nora didn’t react with nearly the same discomfort.  Instead, she endured it and used it as further excuse to examine Tracy.

 

                “Do you stare at all people you meet this way?” Tracy asked, no longer up to this not-staring contest.

 

                Nora cracked an eccentric smile, crossing her incredibly long legs twice before seeming to find comfort in their awkward length.

 

                “Only those I meet on trains.”

 

                A shadow stopped before the door to their compartment.  There was a polite, audible knock on the frosted glass.  At Tracy’s behest, the head of a young man appeared.

 

                “Ladies, please forgive the interruption, but dinner is about to be served in the dining car, if you’re interested.”

 

                Tracy nodded.

 

                “Thank you.”

 

                Nora smiled, or rather, continued smiling and nodded as well.

                                                            

                “Thank you.  We’ll be right there.”

 

                The young man took his leave and left behind a vacuum of words with the slide of the door.

 

                “So,” Nora laced her fingers together on her knee, “dinner?”

 

                Tracy couldn’t see why not.  She had no place else to go.


	2. Chapter 2

                A different man in a white waiter’s jacket, a cummerbund, and black slacks escorted them to a table with a prime view of the passing scenery.  He pulled out their chairs and read off the specialties of the evening.  Tracy ordered filet mignon and a martini, heavy on the olives.  Nora ordered salmon and a drink Tracy wasn’t familiar with--something pretty, she thought.

 

                Though nothing was said as they waited for their food to come, it wasn’t achingly awkward.  Nora took to staring at the open land and Tracy watched her do it.  In a carefree way Tracy couldn’t have imitated even as an infant, she didn’t squirm or fidget, but presented herself freely as the object of this social experiment.

 

                Purpose: Throw two completely different personalities together and see if fascination is born. Conclusion: Fascination thrives.

 

                When at last their meals were set in front of them, they took their time partaking in them, choosing to savor their alcohol at little longer.  Nora set down her glass and set into her dish first with an unabashed abandon her dinner companion could admire.

 

                “No one will ever say you’re afraid to eat in public.”  Tracy had hardly taken a bite of her food so far.

 

                Nora held up her hand as she swallowed the morsel of fettuccini in her mouth.

 

                “Those who strive to eat pretty, starve.”

 

                “Fair point.”

 

                From then on, the only sounds at their table was the clanging of the silverware and of their glasses impacting the tabletop.  No dinner conversation; there wasn’t any need for it.

 

                They sipped coffee as their dishes were cleared away.  The dinner hall had already begun to empty.  Aside from another quarter of a dozen stragglers, they were the only ones left.

 

                “So, why do you stare at people you meet on trains?”  The question surprised them both, because Tracy genuinely wanted to know and she wasn’t expecting that.  What do you know, she surprised herself.

 

                “Because traveling by train is a lost leisure activity.  Everyone goes where they need to by plane or car now.  Only certain kinds of people take the train.”

 

                Tracy absently tossed her hair back and blew on her already cooled coffee.

 

                “Such as?”

 

                Nora laughed self-deprecatingly.

 

                “This is going to sound ridiculous.  But, in my opinion, the only people who take trains are criminals, those vainly in search of a simpler time,” her laughter began to taper off, “and those who are running away from something other than the law.”

 

                Tracy set down her mug and folded her hands in front of her.

 

                “And which sort of person am I?”

 

                Nora brushed her auburn hair behind her ears.

 

                “The kind that decided that anywhere else in the world was a better place to be than home.”

 

                Nora’s changeling eyes--which had appeared light blue when they first met, but were now closer to green--flittered back to Tracy’s and took hold of them.

 

                Tracy abruptly shifted her focus to the hand-sewn tablecloth.  It was safer, less bothersome.  She’d seen something in Nora, or worse, Nora had seen something in her.  Either way, it was too intimate a connection to share with a stranger.  She recaptured the mug between her palms and held it up as a meager shield between herself and the woman who somehow knew exactly what was going on in her head.

 

                “You’re a keen observer.”

 

                Nora chuckled again, but it was a false sound, which Tracy instantly detected.

 

                “How does that work out for you?  I would think seeing things with such clarity has to have a downside.”

 

                She sighed, a shroud sadness wrapping itself around her.

 

                “There is definitely a downside, but,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “you get used to it.”

 

                “I guess you’d have to.”   

 

                They were the only passengers left now.  Only the wait staff moved around discreetly to clear the other tables as they talked.

 

                “We should probably be heading back.”

 

                In agreement, Tracy took a final sip of her cold coffee and made a disgusted face.

 

                “Ick! I hate cold coffee.”

 

                Nora made an incredulous face of her own.

 

                “You will survive.  Come on, you can order another cup from the passenger car.”

 

                They made idle conversation on their way back to the compartment they shared.  The lights had already been dimmed to a drowsy level.  The two of them began to feel its affect as soon as they set foot in the passageway.

 

                Tracy yawned first, covering her mouth and stopping to gain her footing. She thought she might collapse right then.  Nora leaned against the nearby wall.  They didn’t talk anymore on their stumbling trek to the sliding door.

 

                Once they arrived, they shut themselves in and collapsed into their respective seats, lifting their feet up and disappearing into exhaustion.  It had been a longer evening than it felt like.

 

                It was funny to say that they didn’t feel so much like strangers anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

~~~

 

                It would have been unfair to give the sunshine credit for waking Tracy up the next morning.  It received a little help from the careful intentions of Nora Harper.

 

                She had tried persistently calling her name, but had gotten no response for her trouble.  She stood in the middle of their mid-sized compartment with her hand on her hips and a gleam of determination in her cola-colored eyes.

 

                She reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind Tracy’s ear.

 

                “Tracy,” she whispered in her ear.  Nothing.  She leaned closer and said a bit louder, “Tracy, wake up.”  Her grateful hand came up and smacked Nora in the cheek.

 

                Nora nearly guffawed out loud, but composed herself at the last second.

 

                She leaned in a close as she could without being on top of her friend and announced, “Tracy, the train’s on fire! We have to get out of here!”

 

                Tracy jerked to consciousness suddenly, knocking her head into Nora’s and nearly falling out of her extremely comfortable chair.  The armrest was her only saving grace.

 

                “What the hell is going on?”

 

                Nora affected the perfect faultless expression, a slightly bruised impression spreading across her forehead.

 

                “Nothing, just breakfast.  Hungry?”  Her eyes twinkled and she had the nerve to look happy to be awake.

 

                Tracy glared.  She did not want to be awake. Awake meant not asleep, the way she’d have preferred to stay.

 

                “I’ll take that as a yes.  See you in fifteen.  I’ll order for you.”  She sauntered out in her erratic elegance and left her cabin-mate alone.

 

                The only reason Nora wasn’t dead on the carpet was the fact that God hadn’t given looks the power to kill, something Tracy was sorely regretting.

 

~~~

 

                By the time Tracy came to the dining car, breakfast was in full swing.  There was the hum of excited chatter that always accompanied the early mornings.  She found Nora easily, sitting at the table opposite the one they’d inhabited the night before.  She was fully lost in the hillside again.

 

                Tracy saw that when Nora wasn’t so busy inspecting others, there was no little bit to see in her.  The specter of grief she carried with her was worrying.  While she remained deep in thought, Tracy took her place across from her and made an ambivalent face at her breakfast.  It was a little healthy for her taste, but it wouldn’t kill her.

 

                She sipped fresh squeezed orange juice.

 

                “You never told me, what type of person are you?”

 

                Tracy’s sudden appearance jarred Nora from her introspection and she nearly dropped the delicate china tea cup she held.  She was in no state to answer the inquiry any more than she was in a state to _not_ answer it.  When ambushed, tell the truth, Nora’s mother had always said.

 

                She pursed her mouth for a moment, searching futilely for an out.  When she came up with exactly none, she surrendered.

 

                “One of those searching pointlessly for a simpler time.”

 

                Tracy poked at the strange piece of foliage lounging too close to her eggs for comfort.

 

                “What’s wrong with now?”

 

                Nora shifted to the defensive without thought.  Some things were better left to recollection.

 

                “What’s wrong with home?”

 

                Tracy narrowed her eyes at the challenge.

 

                “It’s none of your business.”

 

                Nora nodded succinctly and didn’t say anything more.  The tension of their initial meeting had returned.


	4. Chapter 4

                Tracy and Nora spent the remainder of the morning respectively and alternatively reading the newspaper and reading whatever books they’d packed.  They didn’t say much to each other.  They did, however, share looks that ended similarly with nothing.

 

                Tracy was perusing the Wall Street Journal when she heard superfluous throat clearing from the other silent end of the cabin.  She raised an eyebrow to herself, but kept reading.  It came again.  She looked up and brought the paper down.

 

                Nora was watching her.  There was contrition in her eyes.

 

                “I don’t normally get that upset.  I’m dealing with some things at home and I come on these trips to get away from that.  It wasn’t fair of me to take my agitation out on you when you evidently have things going on where you live, too.  I’m sorry.”

 

                The recipient of her apology was rather indifferent about it.

 

                “That’s all right.  I’m used to people lashing out in my direction.” She turned the page and folded the paper again, engrossed in the reading of an unexpected article on ELQ.

 

                Nora exhaled slowly, losing some of her radiance at realizing she had alienated yet another person with her temper.

 

                “Okay, fine.”  She opened her book to the page she was reading previously and kept going.  She didn’t comprehend a word of it and she’d have to read it all over later, but she looked occupied and that was the point, basically.

 

                Tracy read the last few words of the article and was relieved to find that it was only a run-of-the-mill “who’s who in industry” article.  She folded the paper and dropped it onto the impressive stack of periodicals beside her.

 

                “I’m sorry I pried into your personal affairs.  I don’t know you from grade school; you don’t owe me any explanations.  You looked like you could use someone to listen to you.  It was my mistake in assuming you would want that to be me.”

 

                She wasn’t convinced Nora was paying attention at first.  Eventually, the woman in question calmly set aside her novel and gave Tracy her acknowledgement.

 

                “It didn’t occur to me that you might care.  No one ever does.”

 

                Her cohort shrugged, uncomfortably brushing off the back-slanted compliment.

 

                “Better your problems than mine.”

 

                Nora chortled, in that wry, but over exuberant way of hers.

 

                “My kind of philosophy.”

 

                Tracy allowed a dim smile as remembrances of what awaited her in Port Charles flickered in the back of her mind.

 

                “Then, I guess we’re a matched set.”

 

                Just then, a streak of lightning split the foreign horizon, the sky gaped wide, and down came the torrential rain.  It was strangely befitting the mood they were in.

 

                Subconsciously disturbed by the isolation of pouring rain, Tracy drew the shade.  Nora switched on the light and neither mentioned that women like them shouldn’t be afraid of the weather or the dark.  Though, it wasn’t either of those things they feared.  They dreaded the memories.

               

                And, no, they didn’t want to talk about it.


	5. Chapter 5

                “Okay, I can’t do this anymore.” Nora said out of nowhere.

 

                Tracy, who had been reading a novel that lacked in promised sensuality, dropped her disappointing distraction for her entertaining companion.

 

                “What?”

 

                Nora leaned down and began to tinker with her intricately strapped sandals.

 

                “These shoes.  They’re hell.”

 

                “Then, take them off.”  It was easy for her to say in her chicly comfy ankle boots peeking out from under deliciously tailored pants.

 

                “You consider bare feet to be civilized?”  Nora asked more in jest than any attempt to ruffle Tracy’s pristine feathers.

 

                “I consider having the good sense to take off shoes that don’t fit especially civilized.”

 

                Nora smirked and pushed up the offending armrests of the adjacent seats to stretch her lengthy legs out towards the door.

 

                “The things you learn about strangers, hmm?”  She swept her hair away from her face and leaned back against the window glass. 

 

                With nothing more pressing to attend to, Tracy was easily captivated by the sight of Nora.  She followed the path her formerly-skirted limbs cut against the seat’s hand-woven upholstery with her eyes.  Almost immediately afterwards, she noted the crease in her blouse that tugged her collar invariably lower to reveal another intoxicating sight--pale, nearly translucent skin, clearly untouched by sun or harsh light.  This part, this component of Nora Harper had a loveliness all its own.

 

                “Do you usually stare at people you meet on trains?”

 

                Nora’s teasing inquiry snapped Tracy from her admiring inspection.  Knowing she’d been well caught, she had the grace to turn a pitiful shade of pink.  She refused, however, to avert her eyes like an ill-behaved child.

 

                “Only the attractive ones.”

 

                Nora snickered. That was quickly becoming her default reaction to everything.

 

                “Of course.  Though, there’s something to be said for being exotic.”

 

                Tracy scoffed.

 

                “Ha! Exotic or unattractive?”

 

                Nora began to interject, but Tracy staved her with a finger raised in point.

 

                “Ah ah, no, they’re not the same.  Once can be from Madrid, have lime green eyes and still look like a moose.”

 

                In response, Nora shrugged and began to twirl a lock of curled hair around her finger.

 

                “I’m from Indiana,” she admitted, revealing a rather shy underside to her personality.  “My eyes are…” she halted for and indescribable instant to consider it.  “Green probably covers it, hazel at a stretch.  I never gave it much thought.”  She continued to wind her hair again.  “I don’t exactly personify exotic.”

 

                Tracy felt something shift within her at those words, tinged with unexpected irony and melancholy.

 

                “Not necessarily, no, but you are attractive.  There can be no doubt about that much.”  The compliment came without warning and she meant it to the letter.  She had grown so tired of seeing gorgeous women be oblivious to their luminosity.  Seeing Nora doubt, to any extent, her appeal caused an unnatural twist in her stomach.

 

                Nora put her hand out for Tracy’s book.

 

                She tossed it over the short distance between them.

 

                “If only the rest of the world saw me that way.”  She flipped to the first page.  After a moment of pointed concentration and the subtle narrowing of her eyes, she snagged the pair of glasses dangling unsuspectingly from the collar of her blouse and slipped them onto her nose.

 

                Tracy sat back and closed her eyes.  She wasn’t sleepy, but she wasn’t about to take the chance that this conversation might continue.  She didn’t know where it would lead if it did.  She breathed slowly, ignoring the rich scent of Nora’s perfume--White Diamond by Elizabeth Taylor--and her soothing herbal shampoo.  She wasn’t accustomed to women anymore; she wasn’t used to having pleasant conversations with them about anything, much less life.

 

                She hadn’t felt so secure in someone’s presence since her mother had passed.  And yet, this weary traveler, who expertly concealed her sorrows behind a jovial veneer, had plainly scaled the walls she’d erected between herself and every person she knew.  She’d done it in little more than a day.

 

                Tracy held herself tightly, still feigning sleep.  She thought she must’ve been slipping.


	6. Chapter 6

                Nora flipped through the brand new pages with the abandon of an endlessly curious mind.  Tracy had already surrendered all pretense of sleeping; Nora didn’t care and Tracy was finding that she had little concern for appearances herself.

 

                So, she continued to look at Nora. Long after she’d committed the other woman’s face to pristine memory, she continued to observe her.  Though she wasn’t one for saccharine sentiment or adoring terms for perfect acquaintances, she was thoroughly taken by this one.

 

                Nora Harper was a fire-tipped snow bank.  Tracy about gagged on the thought. It wasn’t like her.

 

                The object of her reluctant admiration shifted, pulling her sinewy legs to her chest as she sank deeper into the book’s veil-thin plot.  She was always one for adding layers where there were none.

 

                “You didn’t give this book enough of a chance, you know,” Nora commented without lifting her eyes from the small print.

 

                “What makes you think I haven’t read it before?”

 

                “That would be a banal objective and you have little inclination towards that sort of thing.”  She spoke as though Tracy’s mind was a foregone conclusion and she knew everything there was to know.

 

                “You think you know me so well.  Tell me, then, why did I stop reading the book?”  Tracy was feeding right into her new friend’s game—knowingly no less.

 

                “Because the blurb on the back promises sensuality and, as of page twenty-two, I’ve yet to be aroused.”

 

                “It does lack in that department.”

 

                Nora tipped her head in agreement.

 

                “It lacks in a few areas, but especially there.  Somewhere in here, however, is a story dying to be told.”

 

                Tracy waited impatiently for the steward to make his rounds again.  She was craving alcohol.

 

                “Isn’t there always a story where you’re concerned?”

 

                Nora peered intently over her frames at Tracy.

 

                “Yes, I invite drama wherever I go.”

 

                “Ah,” Tracy uncrossed and recrossed her legs.  “I’m curious, though.  What exactly is the problem where you live?”

 

                “Why do you want to know?”

 

                She smirked for lack of a better expression.

 

                “Because you’re of a great deal of interest to me and I clearly have nothing else to do.”

 

                “Okay then.” She clapped her borrowed novel shut and began to tell her story.  She was right. It was a doozy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke leaves Port Charles in search of his wayward wife.

_Now all these hotel lobbies are filled with what's to me_  
Lonely midnight drivers  
Drifting out to sea  
And all those late night lovers  
Don't make things better to me 

                -- “Let It Roll” by Train

~~~

 

                Luke took a deep drink from his cup and shook his head to wake himself.  He’d been on the move for more than six days now, searching high and low for that wife of his.  Two weeks ago she’d up and disappeared from his life, the same day his Laura made her return.  He’d been occupied with her, caring for her, guarding her as he had always felt he needed to.  Until she took him aside and asked him—no, told him to stop.

 

                She didn’t need a guardian anymore.  She was alive and grown, and whole all on her own.  She’d kissed his cheek and sent him on the mission he desired most, finding Tracy and bringing her home.

 

                He’d stopped here for the moment, to rest and to try to quell the shrill instinct telling him that he’d missed her by a minute and a half, or better yet by a mile.  She was long gone from these parts, he knew, but he kept looking.  A part of him was desperate to find her close to Port Charles, as he felt that had she gone beyond its borders, the world was an impossibly large place to have to look for his heart.  He couldn’t accept that he might not ever find it.

 

                He rubbed his head and stumbled off his stool.  He hadn’t had a drop to drink but he was drunk on this hopelessness   He was its victim and companion.  He wanted her back.

 

 

 


End file.
